Twin Engine Crocker
by Yemi Hikari
Summary: Terry takes the Crocker out for a spin, yet finds a connection he didn't expect.


_Disclaimer – I don't own Batman, Nightwing or Batman Beyond. This is for the sixth round of Write to Rank for the Action profile on Wattpad where I utilize my alternative origin story for Terry. The goal for this one was to write a 1-1.2k one-shot involving the history and action genre. Since Batman originally took place in the 40s, I decided to bring the Terry into the 60s. I had fun research cars and motercycles._

 **Twin Engine Crocker**

He fell in love with the twin-engine _Crocker_ upon first sight.

The motorbike lay in an unused corner of the Bruce Wayne's garage collecting dust. The business tycoon kept all other vehicles in the garage in peak condition whether they ranged from economy to luxury, yet this vehicle remained untouched and forgotten. Bruce's favored _Vincent_ _Black_ _Knight_ couldn't compare to the beauty of the _Crocker_ 's sleek, aerodynamic form.

Terry's red Simplex with single engine paled in comparison.

He found himself, when not patrolling as Batman, working on the motorbike, returning it to its former running condition. The sound of the engine was like beautiful music to his ears, and he couldn't resist taking it out for a spin. The air rushed around his face, kissing his face, but the air blew in his hair. He pulled to a stop outside of a fuel station before heading in and placing his dollar onto the counter for the couple of gallons he needed to fill the _Crocker_.

He stepped out, waiting for the attendant to fill up the tank, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants just as Nelson Nash drove up in his beautiful red Chrysler 300G Coupe. Terry's mouth tightened, noticing Nelson's girlfriend in front and the jock best friends hanging out in the back. Nelson's mouth twitched up. "Look what my father bought me."

"Who cares." The music coming from Nelson's radio stopped and started blaring the annoying reminder of the Cold War, but also rush towards reading the moon before anyone else.

"You're just jealous your widowed mother can't afford something like this beauty."

"Nash, I work for Mr. Wayne."

"So, I bet that doesn't pay enough."

"Yeah, but you forgot something."

"And what would that be?"

"I get to drive Mr. Wayne's vehicles."

The attendant came out, frowning as he did so. Nelson of course held up a rather large bill telling the attendant to keep the change if he would fill his tank up before Terry's. Terry simply leaned against the gas pump, waiting as the gas attendant did just that. The man turned. "Sorry. I really need the money."

Terry attempted shrugging the incident off, particularly since Nelson hadn't brought up the fact he was considered an illegitimate child in his parent's marriage. "No. I get it. When your family needs money, you take the jobs you can get."

He couldn't help but think how lucky he was to have ended up working for Bruce Wayne. Not only did he get a good wage, the man insisted Terry finish at least his high school education. College on the other hand did not seem an actual option, given his low-income status. Of course, nobody realized he'd taken on the role of Batman except for a select few.

Getting back on the road honestly felt good, but his cares went away. The paths on the outskirts of Gotham curved in pleasant ways, which allowed Terry to feel the movement of the bike along with the air in his wind. The sound of a car from behind startled him yet he kept his balance. The country roads were narrow, and yet the person in the car kept at his heels.

"McGinnis, stop hogging the road."

A quick turn revealed that behind him was Nelson Nash, making Terry wonder if the jock from his school followed him. Instead, he found himself gunning the engine until they arrived at a split, and Terry took the route he hoped Nash wasn't wanting to.

Unfortunately, he took the turn to fast, and found himself skidding out. The gravel of the road bit into his pants leg, and Terry gritted his teeth. He heard Nash and his friends let out a sound of triumph as they continued their way. Terry stood up, taking in a deep breath as he lifted the bike up. His leg looked a bloody mess, meaning his mother would kill him.

The rattling of a vehicle drew his eyes up from the road. A farmer stepped out of the vehicle. The man helped him get the motorcycle into the back, and Terry found himself riding to the man's farm. "Got anybody to contact? We've got one of those phones, though for the life of me I've not figured it out. My wife has."

"My uncle." Terry leaned against the side, wishing he had a better option than calling his Uncle Timothy. His uncle Jay, however, wasn't reliable, and he wasn't in the mood for his mother or Wayne chewing him out. Plus, his uncle did have some resources. After the farmer's wife helped him bandage up his leg, he called the man.

" _Hello. This is Tim Drake speaking._ "

"Uncle Timothy. It's Terry. As in Terrance."

" _Terrance? Why are you calling me? Nothing bad happened to your mother?_ "

"No, I am in need of a ride, preferably one which can transport a motorbike if possible." A silence came from the other side. "Hey? You aren't going to tell my mother, are you?"

" _I'll think about it. I'll be there in an hour or so._ "

Terry found himself treated to the hospitality of the older couple and told himself he' need to find a way to pay them back somehow. The sound of gravel crunching, and an engine drew his attention away. He hobbled to the door, watching his uncle get out. The grimace on the man's face screamed he was going to get a lecture after all.

"What were you thinking?"

"I was being myself."

"Yes, just like…" Tim froze. "No. He's not a good example. The dangerous stuff he got into isn't what killed him. It was the war." Terry didn't like the far-off look in his uncle's eyes. Tim looked up at him. "Let's go and get that bike of yours."

"It's not mine." Terry watched his uncle freeze again. He pointed, and Tim finally looked over at the farmer's truck.

The color drained from his uncle's face. "Terry. You stole the Crocker from Bruce Wayne?"

"No. I didn't steal it. That isn't to say he doesn't know I've been working on getting it running again, or that I took it out for a test…"

"Terry!" Tim spun on him. "Exactly what is that supposed to mean?"

"Didn't mom tell you? I've been working for Mr. Wayne since dad died."

"Wh…" Tim sighed, before helping Terry to get the motorbike into the back of the van. After a moment of silence with the two sitting there, his uncle spoke. "You've no idea what you've done. You don't touch Dick's things. Ever."

"What…"

"Dick is – was – Bruce's first ward. He died during the Second World War."

"Oh." That certainly explained the old man's attitude.

They arrived at the manor, and Bruce came out to greet them. "Tim? What are you doing here?"

"Terrance took Dick's bike."

"I know. I've known since he first found the bike." Terry frowned, only to wince when Mr. Wayne poked him in the chest. "The next time you take the Crocker out, you wear the appropriate safety gear or I'll tan your hide."

"Wait…" Tim's eyes blinked. "You're fine with this? Him riding Dick's bike?"

Bruce paused. "He's Dick's son. Why not?"


End file.
